


it's not so hard

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7573513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Enjolras finds himself in dire need of a boyfriend to take to an office party, he asks Grantaire for help. Needless to say, it's not the best idea he's ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not so hard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesewersofparis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesewersofparis/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [没那么难/it's not so hard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7634683) by [darkflorence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkflorence/pseuds/darkflorence)



> For [thesewersofparis](http://thesewersofparis.tumblr.com/), who won a 5000 word fic in my giveaway. 
> 
> The prompt was: a fake/pretend relationship fic in which Enjolras is fed up with girls at work flirting with him so he starts taking Grantaire to office parties
> 
> I hope you like it!

Enjolras’ day is… well, it’s not a complete disaster. He’s only been awake for two hours and while it’s not entirely implausible for a day to become a complete disaster in the span of two hours, there’s definitely room for it to get worse. It’s not the most encouraging thought. Enjolras would call himself an optimist on any other given day, but in the wake of Monday morning traffic that has made him so late that he couldn’t get coffee, he’s not all that optimistic. 

He has an editorial meeting in fifteen minutes and the elevator isn’t moving, so his chances of getting a coffee beforehand are shrinking rapidly. He has half a mind to take the stairs, even though he certainly wouldn’t be faster, but at least he’d be _moving_. The doors are being kept open by one of the girls who works for the marketing company on the third floor, undoubtedly waiting for someone who’s hurrying towards the elevator.

It’s Grantaire who slips inside a moment later, dark curls tousled, smiling at the girl. He greets her by name and thanks her; she blushes furiously and tries to strike up a conversation. 

Enjolras has no idea how everyone in this building knows Grantaire. He’s not even here that often. Grantaire draws the comic strip for the paper that Enjolras works at. He drops by at seemingly random intervals, talks to the editor-in-chief, makes his way around the office, drinks a lot of coffee and messes with Enjolras’ desk. Enjolras has ended up with his paperclips sorted by color, with all his pens taped together, and he once found a post-it dinosaur plastered all over his desk, notes and keyboard. 

His colleagues, of course, have noticed that Grantaire always pays special attention to him. After he explained to them that they’ve known each other since Enjolras’ first year of college, they found it even more endearing. Enjolras still fails to see how color-coded paperclips are in any way endearing, but that just brings him back to the facts – everyone knows Grantaire. And everyone _loves_ Grantaire. 

Six years ago, when Enjolras started college and first met Grantaire, he would have refused to admit that there was anything remotely likeable about him. Now, all these years later, he has come to find that Grantaire has some redeeming qualities. Enjolras wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Grantaire has grown up. A little. In ways that matter.

One by one, people file out of the elevator until it’s just him and Grantaire.

“Would you look at that,” Grantaire says. “You’re late.”

“I’m not,” Enjolras says. He still has approximately twelve minutes. 

“No need to look so grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“Did you get caught up arguing with someone on the internet again?”

“No,” Enjolras says forcefully.

“Ran out of coffee, huh?”

Enjolras huffs at him because he doesn’t like how well Grantaire knows him and stomps out of the elevator as soon as the doors slide open, past the reception desk and into the office. Behind him, Grantaire cackles.

There’s no more coffee in the break room, so Enjolras heads straight for the meeting. It won’t be a long one. He can make it through another half hour without coffee. Grantaire isn’t there for the meeting; he’s probably busy covering Enjolras’ computer screen with post-it notes. 

When Enjolras returns to his desk, however, all he finds is a mug with steaming coffee. It’s his mug, the one Courfeyrac bought him specifically to take to work, and there’s milk and sugar in it, just like Enjolras always has it. He catches Grantaire’s eye and lifts the mug in question. Grantaire only shrugs, grins and ambles away towards the editor’s office. 

Grantaire used to work at the Musain, around the corner from the building where Enjolras had most of his classes. He basically lived there during his time at college and he still meets his friends there once a week. Grantaire quit his job there years ago, but it’s not entirely unlikely that he still remembers Enjolras’ coffee order. 

“Enjolras!”

The coffee in Enjolras’ hand nearly ends up getting spilled all over his desk. He puts down the mug and looks up to find Elodie beaming at him. Enjolras likes her well enough, except for her tendency to sneak up on people when they least expect it. “Elodie,” Enjolras says, “how can I help you?”

“I was just wondering,” Elodie says, leaning closer, lowering her voice, “if you’re coming to David’s birthday party on Friday.”

“I am, yes,” Enjolras says. He’s already signed the card and payed for the joint present. Needless to say, he was expecting something more work-related.

“Lovely. Are you bringing your girlfriend?”

“I…” It’s not an easy feat to render him speechless. But he was sure, until just now, that at this point everyone at the office knew that he’s gay. He doesn’t mention it, he doesn’t talk much about his private life in general, but he’s had two or three awkward conversations about it. He thought that by now the office’s gossip mill would have run its course. “No,” he eventually says.

“Too bad,” Elodie says. “So you’ll be coming by yourself?”

“Well, I suppose…” He gets distracted by the chime of his phone, announcing an incoming message.

“If you still need a date, I–”

“Actually, I’m bringing my boyfriend,” Enjolras says. Why exactly he said that will forever remain a mystery to him. He could blame the lack of caffeine, but in the end he was just looking for a way to end that conversation. 

“Oh,” Elodie says. “I had no idea. Well, I look forward to meeting him.” Her smile is a little too bright when she retreats. 

Enjolras shakes his head at himself. He has two more problems to deal with than he did five minutes ago. First of all, he doesn’t have a boyfriend. Second of all, he certainly won’t be able to find one to take to that office party on Friday during the next few days.

On the other side of the office, Elodie is already spreading the news.

He drinks half of his scalding hot coffee, considering his options. Why did he have to say _boyfriend_? He could have just said that he’d bring a date. A date is not a boyfriend. He wouldn’t have any trouble finding a date. Most of his friends would be happy to spend the evening with him and there are the free food and drinks to consider as well. But a boyfriend? He could ask Courfeyrac for help, but most of his colleagues have met him before and they know that he’d never, not in a billion years, end up being Enjolras’ boyfriend. Combeferre works Friday evenings. Enjolras isn’t sure if he can take the embarrassment of asking any of his other friends to pretend to be his boyfriend for an evening.

Grantaire leaves the editor’s office, both of them laughing. On his way to the door, Grantaire waves at Enjolras and blows him a kiss and somehow manages to make it look ironic. 

Enjolras isn’t sure why he stands up. Why he approaches Grantaire. He can’t ask Grantaire to be his boyfriend, whether it’s all just pretence or not, even though they’re friends and Grantaire loves this sort of thing. Really, he’ll be profoundly entertained by this, especially because it’s _Enjolras_ who has messed up so tremendously.

The problem is, to Grantaire this will be the most hilarious thing to happen all year. But Enjolras can’t do this to himself. He can’t ask Grantaire, because Grantaire is going to say yes to this. And Enjolras can’t stand the thought of Grantaire pretending to be his boyfriend. _Because_. Maybe he’s scared that it’ll feel to real.

Having realized that Enjolras is headed for him, Grantaire has stopped next to the door. 

It’s too late now. Enjolras is going to ask him and he’ll just have to deal with it.

“I didn’t put terrible things in your coffee if that’s what you’re worried about,” Grantaire says when Enjolras has caught up with him.

“No, I…” Enjolras shakes his head. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No worries.”

“There’s something I need to ask you,” Enjolras says. Courfeyrac has been telling him to just ask Grantaire out for ages, because, “Enjolras, honestly, everyone has noticed that you can’t stop staring at him during meetings”. Enjolras doesn’t know how, but he knows that right now would be a great time to finally do that. He dismisses the thought. 

“Okay?”

“In private,” Enjolras says, even though it seems that everyone around them is busy with their own work. Enjolras knows that there is always someone who overhears these things.

Grantaire looks mildly confused, but follows Enjolras out the door and past the reception desk, to a quiet corner. “So?”

“I told Elodie that I’d bring my boyfriend to David’s birthday party on Friday,” Enjolras says. “Do I have to explain how that is a problem?”

“Your boyfriend is invisible?” Grantaire says, a huge, shit-eating grin already spreading over his face. 

“Not even that,” Enjolras says.

“I’m all out of boyfriends to lend to people.”

“Grantaire.”

“You’re fucked,” Grantaire says, gleeful. 

Enjolras lets him enjoy it for a few more seconds, because he probably deserves to be the target of Grantaire’s ridicule, then he says, “I know this is a strange request, but would you–”

Grantaire laughs. Enjolras deserves being laughed at as well. “You know, I’m invited, too. So you can’t even talk me into it by promising me free food.” He doesn’t mention the drinks. Grantaire hasn’t had a single one in over two years. 

That’s not the point, though. Enjolras has no leverage. And of course Grantaire is invited as well. David is assistant editor-in-chief, he probably invited _the entire office_. Enjolras makes a face. 

“Do I get to call you embarrassing pet names?” Grantaire asks.

“No,” Enjolras replies. 

“You’re no fun,” Grantaire says. “But that’s hardly news.”

Enjolras sighs. “What do you want? Other than to call me embarrassing pet names, I mean.”

“Aw, come on. Who do you think I am? I’m just teasing. Anyway, I want to see Elodie’s face when she sees that I’m your boyfriend. I’m pretty sure that her eyes are gonna pop out of her head.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“And I’ll even let you call me embarrassing pet names,” Grantaire says and winks at him. 

Enjolras’ stomach does an entirely uncalled for somersault. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing, darling. I’ll see you on Friday.” And with that Grantaire stalks off, whistling, and pushes the elevator button, not without grinning at Enjolras over his shoulder one more time.

Maybe on Friday, maybe if they have a good time, Enjolras can figure out how to ask people out on dates after they’ve already pretended to be your boyfriend.

*

Enjolras shuffles his feet, staring down the street. For some reason, he’s scared that Grantaire might not come. It’s not uncommon with Grantaire, but he usually lets people know if he’s not going to show up. Enjolras checks his phone – no new texts, no missed calls. 

He’s early. 

They agreed that it would be best if they just met at the metro station around the corner from the office, since they live in completely different parts of the city. Their office parties are either held up on the roof or in one of the building’s huge conference rooms. Technically, this is a birthday party, but since the entire staff is invited, it’s a bit of both in the end. 

This is the first office party Enjolras isn’t going to on his own. He doesn’t want to be the person who avoids socializing, so he goes, piles food on a plate, talks to some colleagues, and leaves when other people are starting to leave as well. It has always worked well for him. People often ask him why he never brings a date, a partner, anyone, and Enjolras has come to dread the question, but he never actually cared that the didn’t have anyone to bring. 

Grantaire appears with five minutes to spare, in dark jeans and a green dress shirt. Enjolras opens his mouth, but not a word comes out. 

He clears his throat. “Hello,” he says. So far so good. Instead of worrying about Grantaire not showing up, Enjolras should have worried about things being extremely awkward between them. 

“You look nice,” Grantaire says. His blue eyes are twinkling in the glow of the streetlights. “Which is good, because I can’t be seen with a less-than-perfect boyfriend.”

Enjolras snorts. “Let’s just go.”

“I hope they have those great mushroom things again,” Grantaire says and starts marching towards the office. “Okay… before we get there, we should probably talk about our story. Like, how did we get together? When did we start dating? That sort of thing.”

“Let’s say I asked you out a few months ago. After the Christmas party?”

“Why didn’t I ask you out?”

“Fine, so you asked me out. I suppose that’s more realistic.”

“Because someone like you would never ask someone like me out on a date?” Grantaire asks. It sounds like a silly quip, like he doesn’t really care. But Enjolras has a feeling that he does care. It’s like him, he’s good at that, pretending that he doesn’t care, but then he helps Combeferre out at the children’s hospital and brings Joly soup when he’s sick and helps Bahorel fix his car. 

Enjolras knows that he’s basically handing him ammunition for future jokes now, but he still says, “Because I’ve never asked anyone out in my entire life.”

Grantaire nearly stops in his tracks, but catches himself quickly. “Never? I mean, I know that you’re not one for relationships, but still. _Never_?” 

“Never,” Enjolras confirms.

“Why not?”

“Because I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you of all people–”

“It’s not the same,” Enjolras interrupts. He knows how to write articles, how to write speeches, but it’s different. “One thing is work. The other thing is romantic relationships. There’s a difference there.”

“Okay, let me give you a quick crash course. You say something like, _Do you want to go out on a date with me?_ That’s all. And then you get a yes or a no. Or you get a drink poured over your shirt, but that just happens when you’re me.”

“That’s… regrettable.”

“I survived,” Grantaire says, and it’s followed by an easy smile.

They take the elevator up to the conference room and they both wish David a happy birthday; he, at least, doesn’t notice that Enjolras and Grantaire are here together. It won’t take long for Elodie to catch up with them, though. 

Grantaire leaves Enjolras next to an empty table to find himself “some of those mushroom things”, which is when Elodie and some of her Arts & Culture colleagues find him at the back of the room. 

“Enjolras,” Elodie says, looking around, as if there’s someone hiding behind his back, “where’s your boyfriend?”

“We were so hoping you’d introduce us.”

“Is he here?”

“Yes, right here,” Grantaire says and sidles up to Enjolras, dumping his plate on the table so he can put his arm around Enjolras. “And how are you ladies doing tonight?”

“Grantaire,” Elodie says, her surprise not concealed in the slightest.

“I knew it,” Jean says. He usually does reports on the art world and constantly claims that he’s found the next Picasso. “Didn’t I always say… I bet there’s something going on between those two. And I was right.” He gives Grantaire a pat on the back. “Nice.”

“Yes, so lovely.”

“Indeed,” Grantaire says and Enjolras doesn’t miss the undertone that announces the beginning of a most dramatic story. “I honestly couldn’t believe that Enjolras said yes when I asked him out.”

“Oh, you asked him out?”

“Tell us _everything_.”

*

“Enjolras, how’s it going?”

Enjolras nearly jumps out of his skin. Pieces of paper skid to the floor and his pen ends up dropping right into his half-empty cup of coffee. “Jesus,” Enjolras says.

“Not quite,” Grantaire says.

Enjolras huffs at him and fishes his pen out of his coffee. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d pay my boyfriend a visit,” Grantaire says mock-cheerfully. 

“You could have announced yourself,” Enjolras grumbles and bends down to gather up his notes. They’re even more of a mess than they were before. 

“Yeah, I think I said something like, _Enjolras, how’s it going_.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“I just wanted to say hello,” Grantaire says, his grin broad when he waves at Jean, who’s staring at them from all the way across the office. “I dropped some stuff off and I thought it’d be suspicious if I didn’t at least blow a kiss in your direction.”

Enjolras’ cheeks, for some reason, decide to become burning hot. “Yes,” he only says. Yes to what? He’s not even sure what he’s saying, which is unfortunate when you work in journalism, and Grantaire’s eyes aren’t any less blue than they were last Friday, which is unfortunate when you have to look at him and form coherent sentences. Enjolras isn’t sure how this has suddenly become an issue but he certainly could have done without it.

“So,” Grantaire says and leans closer. It’s counterproductive to Enjolras’ thought process. “When are we breaking up?”

“What?” Enjolras asks.

“I get that we can’t do it immediately or anything, because that would be suspicious. I mean, you’re all in journalism, suspicion is pretty much your default setting, right, but at some point I want to go out any not be scared that someone will think that I’m cheating on my fake boyfriend.”

“Of course,” Enjolras says and glances at his calendar.

Grantaire laughs. “No need to give me an exact date.” He starts to play with Enjolras’ paperclips. “What if we did it here. Big fight. You break up with me because I… cheated on you with my tennis instructor?”

Enjolras’ lips twitch at the joke. “Too unrealistic,” he says.

“Ah,” Grantaire says, fingers tapping on the table. “The tennis instructor was too much.”

“And you’d never cheat on anyone.”

Eyebrows raised, Grantaire looks at him. “No?”

“No,” Enjolras says. Because he does know Grantaire. Not as well as some of their other friends, but this he’s sure of. 

Grantaire is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. He looks… uncomfortable? Then he clears his throat, and his easy smile is back. “I have another idea. Your parents hate me.”

“My parents would hate any guy I’d end up dating on principle. For his gender, that is.” Enjolras takes the rattling box of paperclips from Grantaire. “But I’d never break up with anyone because of _them_.”

“I kicked your cat?” Grantaire tries. “Said something inappropriate about Robespierre?”

“You’ve said plenty of inappropriate things about Robespierre already,” Enjolras says, ignoring the comment about his cat. Grantaire has three cats of his own and everyone can see the hearts in his eyes when he talks about them and calls them little shits. “Why do we need a reason anyway?” He can think of a multitude of reasons why he and Grantaire would end up breaking things off if they were, in fact, in a relationship. But they’re not. 

Enjolras’ eyes flick, on their own accord, down to Grantaire’s lips. But if they were– They’re _not_.

“Just keeping you on your toes,” Grantaire says. “You have so much to do with facts, day in day out, I bet it does terrible things to your imagination. Anyway, for now we’ll be the happiest couple these nosy fucks have ever seen.”

“Yeah, about that,” Enjolras starts.

“Aurelie’s party in two weeks?” Grantaire asks. “I was wondering if you’d want to go to that one.”

“Do you?”

“Oh, Enjolras,” Grantaire says and bats his eyelashes, “are you asking me to go with you?”

“Only if you don’t have other plans.”

“Please, nothing’s better than spending an evening with you,” Grantaire says. And what’s funny about that is that it actually sounds somewhat sincere.

“Great,” Enjolras only says. He points at his computer. “I should…”

“No goodbye kiss?” Grantaire asks, wiggling his eyebrows, but he’s already taken a step back. 

Enjolras rolls his eyes at him, but the worst thing is that he actually considers it for a second. He wants it for a second. 

He knew from the start that asking Grantaire to help him out was a terrible idea.

*

Aurelie’s party isn’t the last one they go to together. Enjolras has never even noticed how many office parties there are – he probably did ditch a few of them last year and successfully forgot all about it. 

Going to those parties with Grantaire makes them worthwhile. Grantaire does most of the small talk, which Enjolras counts as the greatest blessing of them all, even though going with Grantaire means that there are at least twice as many people who talk to them in the course of an evening. Grantaire is everyone’s favorite person to talk to and it seems that people think it’s completely normal to ask couples about the most ridiculous details of their personal life.

Grantaire makes things up as he goes. Sometimes he casts a sidelong glance at Enjolras when he comes up with yet another new story and all Enjolras does is nod and silently thank Grantaire for putting up with this. 

*

Combeferre notices. 

Enjolras assumes that he does because he’s Combeferre and there’s hardly anything he doesn’t notice. Enjolras wouldn’t say that he and Grantaire act differently when they see each other during their meetings at the Musain, but apparently they do. When Courfeyrac finds out what is going on, he calls Enjolras a hopeless zucchini. 

Enjolras still hasn’t figured out what zucchinis have to do with it all.

The longer they play pretend at being boyfriends, the more Enjolras is sure that they could work. Before he pulled Grantaire into this, Enjolras, for months, told himself that they’d never stop fighting, that they’re too different. Now he knows that he was just looking for excuses. And yet, the longer they play pretend, the harder it gets for Enjolras to find the right words to tell Grantaire that he’s been thinking about how things would be between them if they were _real_. Anyway, so far it’s a conversation he’s only had in his head.

They’re as far away from being real boyfriends as they could possibly be. The only thing that makes them more than just friends is that they’ve told people that they’re dating. It’s a lie that exists only in the confines of the office. They’ve never even held hands. They’ve never kissed. Grantaire sometimes puts his arm around Enjolras, and, very rarely, Enjolras does the same.

Enjolras’ biggest mistake is that he thinks too much about it. He thinks about how easy it would be to lean a little closer a press a kiss to Grantaire’s cheek. 

He’s scared that one of these days he’ll actually do it.

*

At some point, they should stop doing this. 

Grantaire is telling Elodie a fake story of how he introduced Enjolras to his friends and she can’t stop talking about how adorable they are and makes jokes about them tying the knot soon. Once she leaves, Grantaire’s smile crumples quickly. 

David’s birthday party was months ago. This isn’t a joke anymore, it’s a _situation_. 

“How are they asking us if we’re planning on getting married already?” Grantaire mutters. 

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras says. Mainly because he’s not sure what else to say. Grantaire is restless today. He’s fidgety, more so than on any other given day, almost like he wants to run away from this. From the party or from Enjolras? That’s anybody’s best guess. They had a bit of an argument at the Musain the other day, but Enjolras thought it resolved. 

“I wasn’t implying that getting married to you would be terrible,” Grantaire says and his smile is back for a split-second. “Indeed, my fake-proposal would bring tears to people’s eyes, our fake-wedding would be the event of the year.”

A handful of appetizers and a glass of a weirdly-colored non-alcoholic cocktail later, Grantaire’s restlessness has taken a hold of Enjolras as well. No one else is leaving yet, but he’s seriously starting to consider asking Grantaire if he wants to go. Not home, necessarily. Just somewhere else. 

When Jean tries to strike up a conversation and his questions get a little too personal for Enjolras’ taste – really, who cares which one of them takes care of housework? – he decides that it’s time to leave.

“Can we go?” Enjolras asks once Jean has strolled away in favor of getting a piece of cake.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Grantaire says and shoves his last appetizer into his mouth. 

Enjolras takes him by the hand and pulls him towards the elevator. He doesn’t realize until they’re halfway across the room. They’ve never held hands before; it’s not part of the deal. What they told everyone and what they actually are, are two very different things. 

They don’t hold hands.

Except right now they _are_ holding hands, and Grantaire’s fingers are warm and his skin is rough against Enjolras’ and he’s letting Enjolras tug him away from the party and into the elevator. No one’s paying them any mind, but Enjolras still feels like people must know that something has changed. 

As soon as the doors of the elevator have slid shut, Grantaire tugs his hand out of Enjolras’ grasp. Enjolras doesn’t like the silence that has spread between them. 

“Next weekend…” Enjolras starts. He wasn’t actually planning on going to that barbecuethat their boss is hosting at his house, but he wants to go. With Grantaire. 

“I can’t,” Grantaire says.

“Oh,” Enjolras says. He’s not sure what he was expecting. Of course Grantaire has other things to do, other plans, other friends he wants to see. He doesn’t owe him any explanations. They’re not actually together. 

“Actually…” Grantaire takes a deep breath. “I think now would be a good time to, you know, call it a day.” He smirks like it’s still part of the joke, but it looks too much like a grimace. “As much as this is going to hurt Elodie…”

“Yeah, no, of course,” Enjolras says. Of course. What was he thinking? That they’d be lying to everyone forever? 

“You can tell people you broke up with me. Tell them I was a shitty boyfriend.” Grantaire shrugs. “More realistic.”

They part ways outside. Enjolras heads for the bus, Grantaire heads for the metro. Enjolras says, “See you soon,” and it sounds like a question. Grantaire nods, smiles, but Enjolras still feels as terrible as he does every time they fight. 

*

When Enjolras gets home, Courfeyrac, perched on the living room couch with a pint of ice cream, takes one look at him and sighs. “What happened?”

“Grantaire and I, we–”

“If you say _broke up_ ,” Courfeyrac says, “I’m going to roll my eyes so hard that they’ll fall out of my head and we don’t want that.” He hands over the ice cream. “Have some.”

Enjolras stares at the spoon. “Where’s Combeferre?”

“I’ll tell you where he’s not,” Courfeyrac says. “He’s not at an office party with a guy, telling everyone that said guy is his boyfriend even though he isn’t.”

“I do admit that this wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had,” Enjolras says.

“Oh, you do admit that?” 

“I don’t know what to do,” Enjolras mutters to the ice cream.

“Really, do I have to spell it out for you?” Courfeyrac says. He takes the ice cream back before Enjolras has a chance to eat any of it. “Combeferre is in his room, by the way. In case you want _him_ to tell you to talk to Grantaire.”

Enjolras glares at him, even though he knows that he deserved that one, much like he deserved Grantaire’s ridicule in the first place. 

*

The lights are still on in Grantaire’s apartment. It’s not that late yet and Enjolras knows for a fact, from snippets of conversations overheard at the Musain, that Grantaire isn’t one to go to bed early. 

Enjolras has been trying to talk himself into ringing the doorbell for the last five minutes. Part of him is hoping that the lights will turn off. Enjolras isn’t particularly proud of that part of himself. Before he can talk himself into leaving instead – because he’s always been convincing – he rings the doorbell. Enjolras waits for the crackle of the intercom, but it doesn’t come. Instead the door buzzes and Enjolras, startled, goes inside.

Grantaire is leaning in the doorway when Enjolras gets upstairs. “You’re not Jehan,” he says, but he doesn’t look surprised. 

“No,” Enjolras says, “I’m not.”

Grantaire waves him inside, even though Enjolras was a millisecond away from excusing himself since Grantaire was obviously expecting someone else. It’s too late for that now. 

“So, Courfeyrac told you, huh?” Grantaire says.

“Told me what?” Enjolras asks. 

“He didn’t tell you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Grantaire frowns, but it smoothes out a moment later. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Enjolras says. He practiced this in his head on the way over, again and again. “About us. I feel terrible about talking you into this, I shouldn’t have, it was childish and I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” 

“Look, it just wasn’t…” Grantaire is persistently staring at the wall next to Enjolras. “It was fun in the beginning. But it wasn’t what I wanted, okay? And none of that is your fault. Honestly, don’t worry about it”

“What did you want?” Enjolras asks. 

“Nothing,” Grantaire says, but it sounds like a lie, like he’s just trying to get rid of Enjolras. 

Enjolras has two options here. He can go home, accept that Grantaire doesn’t want to talk about this and pretend that nothing strange has happened between them. Or he can ask the question that he should have asked in the first place. He doesn’t have anything to lose, does he?

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says, “I think I asked the wrong question. When I asked you to come to David’s party with me. I should have asked you if you wanted to go out with me. Genuinely.”

Grantaire is looking at him now, brow creased. Waiting, like he’s not yet sure if Enjolras actually means it.

“I realize it’s probably too late for that now,” Enjolras goes on, “and maybe you wouldn’t even have said yes if I’d asked you months ago…” He trails off and takes a deep breath. Didn’t Grantaire tell him how easy this is? All he has to do is ask a question. _Then you get a yes or a no_. “Would you like to go out with me? On a date?”

“And you’re sure Courfeyrac didn’t tell you anything?” Grantaire says, his voice low. 

“Tell me _what_?”

“Never mind,” Grantaire says. There’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe I’ll tell you. After our date.”

“So you’re saying yes?”

“As long as you’re taking me somewhere where we’re far away from Elodie and her entourage.”

“I promise,” Enjolras says. He smiles at Grantaire. He finally feels like he can breathe again. “You were right.”

“I was?” Grantaire asks. “Not that I’m surprised, but I have to say that I didn’t think I’d ever hear those words come out of your mouth. What was I right about?”

“Asking someone out,” Enjolras says. “It really wasn’t that hard.”


End file.
